


and i, i'll keep you (in my mind)

by theonlytwin



Series: one heart between us [11]
Category: All Elite Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin
Summary: They spent most of the winter in a weird kind of hibernation - barely going out, just talking about the future and having sex and getting into dumb competitions about beating each others’ reps or speed runs on Mario Kart. Sometimes they have sex during Mario Kart - not all the time though, because Kenny says he doesn’t want “that Pavlovian connection”.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> https://youtu.be/6IPmzBkshds

They spent most of the winter in a weird kind of hibernation - barely going out, just talking about the future and having sex and getting into dumb competitions about beating each others’ reps or speed runs on Mario Kart. Sometimes they have sex during Mario Kart - not all the time though, because Kenny says he doesn’t want “that Pavlovian connection”.

They spend Christmas in Winnipeg and New Years in Kagoshima. After Wrestle Kingdom, Kota has doctor’s appointments and Kenny has appearances in North America. The distance this puts between them - for all of three weeks - feels like a practice run. 

Kenny’s back in time for the Cup, so even though he can’t be there when Kota looks to the turnbuckle, he’s sent a dozen text messages during the match.

He’s written _excellent energy_ and _capes are dumb_ and _!!!_ and _nice dive_ and _ibutan!_ and lots of other things, including a tiger emoji. The last two are _that belt will look good on you_ and _I love you so much_.

It’s not the same as having Kenny by his side when he has to talk to the cameras, but Kota looks at the messages in the changing room and in the car. He’s in pain, he’s exhausted, he’s smiling.

When he gets home, Kenny’s asleep on the couch, half a cushion wedged under his head, breathing slow and even, soft sweater riding up his belly.

“Oi,” he kicks the couch gently. 

Kenny shakes himself awake. “Hey, hi. Hi.” He sits up, blinking, puts a hand on the back of one of Kota’s knees.

“Come to bed.” Kota wants to bend over and kiss him, but he can barely look down.

“You don’t want a shower?” Kenny yawns.

“I showered already. Do I smell?”

“No - I just wanted to, like, walk in.” Kenny rests his head on Kota’s hip. “It was going to be very sexy.”

“That sounds nice. Come to bed.”

“Yeah,” Kenny stands up. “I’ll get you a ice pack.”

“Thank you very much,” Kota says, yawning too.

Kota gets slowly into bed, sliding into the cool sheets, shifting his shoulders, feeling the twinges and jabs.

Kenny switches off the light as he comes in, and Kota sighs, delighted.

“Here,” Kenny says, sliding the pack from the freezer between him and the pillow. 

“Thank you,” Kota says again, as Kenny clambers into bed, lies carefully beside him, so their elbows overlap. 

“Any time,” Kenny tells him. “Any time in the next few weeks.” He’s still weirdly guilty about it, even though they’ve gone over it so many times and agreed that no one is meant to be guilty.

“Shh.” He pats Kenny’s hip. “You’ll visit. I’ll visit. I’ll see you in New York.”

“You are going to look good in that belt,” Kenny says, though they haven’t discussed it. They don’t ever really talk about the results of matches, just the process.

“You can put it on me.”

“I can’t be at the ring,” Kenny says, guilty again. 

“No. When we’re alone. Put the belt around my waist.” He presses his hand to Kenny’s leg, finger tips tapping. “Help me celebrate.”

Kenny rolls onto his side, “Like last time?”

“Like that,” Kota says, coaxing Kenny over him by tugging on his elbow.

“When I strapped you up,” Kenny throws the sheet back, kneels between Kota’s spread legs, “and went down on you?” He strokes his hands down Kota’s belly, along his hips.

“It’s a more honourable belt,” Kota says, “so something even more honourable.”

“Wait,” Kenny laughs, “what? Are blow jobs not honourable? How are you measuring the honour of sex?” He keeps his hands on Kota’s hips, gentle pressure, stops laughing. “Do you not want me to go down on you? Or want to go down on me?”

“Ah - no, no, blow jobs are - always good.” Kenny laughs again, and Kota joins in. “Please, go down on me any time.”

“Great,” Kenny, still laughing as he lays his head on Kota’s chest. “Glad we cleared that up.”

“I’m saying it wrong. I want to fuck you,” Kota admits, “not tonight, I don’t think I can tonight, but, when I’m wearing the belt, like I’m - I was trying to - make a metaphor.”

Kenny snorts, then adopts the super polite tone he uses in business conversations. “You have so many talents, Bu-san, I didn’t know metaphors were among them.” 

Kota pokes his tongue out, and Kenny kisses it, and they kiss for a while. 

It, and the blow job later, are very good. 

***

A few weeks later, Kenny leaves.

They’ve been apart for long periods of time before - being apart has been one of the core components of their relationship since they met. 

They’ve separated on bad terms before, too, uncertain or bitter, and this is not like that.

They’ll be more in different countries than they are in the same one, for a while. It’s not ideal, but nothing is. 

He is grateful to have Kenny in his life at all, whether it’s by his side or sending him blurry photos of dogs from some North American city. 

The time when they’re apart will pass, as it has every other time.

But this time, people keep asking how he’s feeling. As if it’s something he can talk about.

That’s the worst part.


	2. Chapter 2

In the New York airport, there’s someone holding up a sign for him. 

The driver doesn’t speak any Japanese, but his credit card works.

Kenny’s waiting in the foyer of the hotel. 

It’s just like the old days, except now the hotels aren’t pay by the hour and Kenny’s wearing a suit.

“Nice suit,” Kota tells him, as they hug.

“A very fashionable man bought it for me,” Kenny says, grinning. “I didn’t wear this on purpose, actually, I’ve been in meetings all morning doing AEW stuff. I should have worn this on purpose.”

“My mother is very impressed that you are an executive vice president, did I tell you?”

Kenny helps him check in, and they talk about their plans for the week in the lift.

Upstairs, inside, Kota presses him unceremoniously against the closed door. Kenny sighs, sags, squeezes Kota’s waist. 

Kota breathes him in, kisses him, starts untucking his fancy shirt to touch his skin. 

“Please take off your nice suit,” he says, and Kenny shivers under his hands. He opens his mouth, and tries to say something, but Kota kisses him again. 

Kenny laughs into the kiss, holds him tighter, starts pushing them away from the door. Kota lets himself get walked back, and because he didn’t get a lay of the room, he’s surprised by another wall. Kenny nudges his leg between Kota’s, holds him there, kissing his cheek and throat, running his hands along Kota’s sides. Kota starts pulling Kenny’s jacket off, rucking his shirt up further.

Kenny pulls back, wet mouthed and grinning. “Shower?” 

“Yes,” Kota undoes a few of Kenny’s buttons. Kenny curves a hand around Kota’s cheek, kisses his nose, kisses under his eye, gentle, sweet. “Yes.”

***

Kenny sends him text messages all through the whole MSG show, but not during his match. 

The match was very good and very fun and the crowd loved it and him and Naito are probably both fine and he has the belt.

He gets through the interview not even feeling weird - maybe because no one can ask him questions, and most of them can’t understand him. He feels elated, which is wearing off but still in effect when he finally looks at his phone and the last thing Kenny’s sent is still about Zack, so he has a plummeting feeling. 

He shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter. They’re in the same city. They’re sharing a bed. 

Kota showers and talks to Naito, to Tanahashi, doesn’t look at his phone. Naito is fine, Tanahashi is effusive. He watches the end of the ladder match, starts watching Okada and White. 

He comes back to his bag, for water, and he’s not going to look at his phone, but it buzzes, and he snatches it. 

There are eighteen unread messages.

The most recent one says _you’re wonderful, I’ll see you soon_. 

He scrolls back through all of Kenny’s telegraphic impressions, which it looks like he’s only been sending for the last few minutes? But they’re about his match.

It seems odd to ask why he’s late, greedy, somehow, and he doesn’t know how to phrase it, so he writes, _soon_ , and asks someone to get him back to the hotel. 

“Already?” Naito asks, “You’re like an old married man, Ibushi-san.”

“An old married man who beat you,” Tana says, winking.

Naito rolls his eyes in the way where he doesn’t look at anyone. “Get some rest, old man.”

Ibushi nods, gathers his things. The belt is a the top of his bag, heavy and bright. He’s still shaking a little. “Good night everyone! Thank you for all you’ve done,” he calls to the room, as he leaves.

People wave, still watching the screens. The last match isn’t over yet, but he’s seen the Rainmaker plenty of times. 

***

When he walks in, Kenny uncoils from the little desk chair in the corner of the hotel room. He’s in gym shorts and nothing else, chest flushed. 

“Were you working out?” Kota asks.

Kenny shakes his head, takes Kota’s bag from his hand. He stands close but doesn’t touch him otherwise.

“You didn’t message during my match,” Kota says, which he hadn’t meant to. 

Kenny smiles, abashed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d notice. I thought I could watch it once, just watching, then again with like, comments. I wanted to, like, focus on it.”

Kota puts his hands on either side of Kenny’s face, smooshes his cheeks together. “You’re extremely cute, Kenny-tan.”

“You’re the worst,” Kenny says through his smooshed mouth.

Kota lets go, pats his face, kisses him on the forehead. “You’ve said this before, but I don’t think you believe it.”

“Anyway.” Kenny steps away, hoisting his bag onto a bench. “Remember what you said during the Cup?”

He watches Kenny open the zip, reveal the belt. “I want you to put the belt on me. And I want to fuck you, while I’m wearing it. I want you to come on me. And it.” 

Kenny looks at him, eyes wide. “You didn’t say that part.”

“I hadn’t thought of it yet. Is it bad? I’ll clean it later.”

“Yeah, I mean. Yeah, clean the belt, but - I thought you wanted to treat it honourably? Purify it, or something?”

“Kenny,” Kota gets closer, covers his hands on the belt, holding it between them. “This is part of that. This is honourable.”

Kenny nods, slowly. “You should - take your clothes off.”

Kota ducks forward, brushes his face along Kenny’s collarbone. “Can I get you ready first?”

He blushes all over. “I did - already.”

“Not a work out!” he says, beaming.

“The worst,” Kenny mumbles. “I don’t like you at all.”

“That’s too bad,” Kota says, taking his shirt off. “Because we have to share the room.” He shoves his pants down, steps out of his shoes and sits on the edge of the bed to take off his socks. When he looks up, Kenny’s still standing alone, looking uncertain. “Are you OK?”

Kenny sighs, holds the belt up to the light. “You know, when I won this, it was, kind of, for you. I did also want to beat Tanahashi, but - I wanted the belt for you.”

“Everything I win is kind of for you,” Kota tells him, standing up. “Because I wouldn’t have any of this without you.”

“Maybe,” Kenny says.

“Truly.” He walks to Kenny, touches his elbow, worried that they’ve lost something. “Aren’t we partners?”

Kenny glances up, looks down again. He unfolds the belt, starts to put it around Kota’s waist. 

“Kenny-tan?” Kenny’s behind him now, fixing the studs in place, wrapping his arms around in the same way, hands folded above the crest, face pressed to the back of Kota’s neck. Kota covers his hands again, tells him, “I was so worried when you hadn’t messaged. I needed to know what you thought. I always want to know what you think.”

Kenny nods against his shoulder blades. 

“Do you want to lie down?” 

Kenny nods again, loosens his arms. They fold together on the bed, hands intertwined. Kota can’t figure out the moment to take the belt off, so it’s still there, warming between their bellies. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I panicked,” Kenny says. “I just - I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“It is,” Kota tells him.

“But I might fuck it up,” he says. “And by thinking like that, I did! I know it’s just, like, anxiety talking, but. I didn’t want to waste any of the time we have.”

Kota bumps his forehead to Kenny’s. “Is this time wasted?”

Kenny presses his face forward, holds his hands tighter, says, “No.”

Kota nudges their mouths together, kisses him, slowly instead of desperately, like all their kisses the last two days have been. 

They stay slow for a while, slow enough that Kota thinks they might just go to sleep, and that seems like maybe a good idea. He can probably sleep in the belt, to be honest. But there’s a moment, without premeditation, when he presses his lips to Kenny’s throat, Kenny digs his fingers into Kota’s ass and his heart rate suddenly doubles. 

He gasps and twists his fingers into Kenny’s hair. Kenny rocks his hips up - his dick is swelling under the slippery gym shorts and Kota slips his free hand down to tuck into his waistband.

“Yeah,” Kenny mutters, and starts shuffling them off, rolling onto his back. Kota props himself up, but the belt digs in, so he sits straight up, watches as Kenny kicks the shorts away and plants his feet, catches sight of the plug.

Kota tips his head, and Kenny nods to the unasked question. He runs his fingers up Kenny’s thigh, along the curve of his ass. He taps the plug and Kenny makes a choked noise as his dick twitches.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, twisting the base of the plug, drawing it slowly out. “So strong and so beautiful. Wonderful to see. Mine.”

Kenny cries out, a sound that starts low and gets louder as the plug pops free. Kota slips two fingers into him - wet, grasping, hot, and has the weird sensation of his erection bumping against the belt.

He curves his fingers, turns them, and Kenny yells, an arm thrown over his eyes and the other hand clutching at the sheets. 

“Is that good?” Kota asks, working his fingers. Kenny moans. “Do you want to come? In my mouth?”

“On you,” he pants. “On the belt.”

“Will you ride me?”

Kenny nods, still covering his face.

Kota draws back, looks at Kenny, heaving in air, dick hard. He takes his arm away, blinks up at him, smiles. 

“Get the lube,” Kenny says, sitting up.

Kota slicks himself, and Kenny climbs over him, lowers himself, powerful legs shaking. 

They bed knocks against the wall when they start in earnest, but Kenny tosses his hair back, goes faster, and Kota laughs. 

He strokes Kenny’s dick, wants to sit up, to kiss him - but there’s the belt and Kenny, heavy and bright, can’t be reached.

He rolls his hips, and pulls Kenny to the side, folds him over so he’s on his back, legs up, and Kota can bury himself, in Kenny, can fuck into him as he rocks underneath, can tip, precariously, forward, to kiss him.

They make a lot of noise. Kota shouts as he comes, and rolls again. He brings Kenny with him - they’ll both have bruises from the belt tomorrow - sits him on his hips and gets him off with shaking, frantic hands.

He watches as Kenny spends all over his chest and the belt. Kenny droops, panting, above him.

“You’re so. Good,” Kenny says before sliding off. “It’s bullshit. Love you.”

Kota smiles, satiated.

***

He scrubs at the belt in the morning with a hotel washcloth and it looks presentable.

“I’ll clean it properly back home.”

“Bu-san, if you drop that belt to like - anyone. And it still has jizz on it? I will set fire to all your sneakers.”

Kota puts the belt in his bag and gets back into bed, putting his cold hands on Kenny’s ribs, making him jump. “I love you,” he says, when Kenny grabs his wrists, pins them.

“I love you.” Kenny settles his weight more heavily against Kota, grinds their hips a little. “But I’m not kidding. Get a toothbrush and like an industrial sponge.”

“Yes, dear.” 

Kenny squints at him, but Kota tips his mouth up for a kiss. It is perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> next chapter is in new york


End file.
